Realizations
by The Perfect Spell
Summary: Jazz realises something. Warnings: character death.
1. Chapter 1

[2007 movieverse] Realization dawns on Jazz.

Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately.

**Realizations**

* * *

"_Is that all you got, Megatron?"_

"Come here, you little cretin! "

_**"**__You want a piece of me? You want a piece?"_

**"**No, I want TWO!"

* * *

I awake from the defrag cycle, processor aching from the memories, and finding comfort in the glaringly orange ceilings and walls that greets my optics… Wait a minute, this isn't the Ark's medbay. Pit, this isn't even the Ark at all. The sturdy walls of our beloved ship have been replaced by what looks to be a flimsy aluminium shack. I guess the humans finally built us a temporary base. _Frag Megatron, I must have been out for quite some time if the base is already built. _I try to crane my neck to look around, but to no avail. It seems Ratchet made good on his promise to bolt my head down to the table after I got myself slagged again.

The attempts to move my extremities also meet with the same results, for my limbs feel like lead and wouldn't obey me. I guess the CMO has also disconnected my neural relays too. _Sheesh, why didn't that glitch give me painkillers while he was at it?_

_.:Hey Ratch' man, you there?:. _I try calling out to him on my comm. link. No response, not even the slightest hint of static.

_.:Ratchet? Your royal medicness?:._

Dead silence.

Oh crud, does this mean he offlined my communication systems too? _That's just cruel Ratch'_. Now I can't even comm. 'Bee to tell him I'm awake, and with nothing left to do, my processor wonders off to plot revenge. I think I'll pipe music into his medbay until he comes out screaming…

Ah-ha! I spy a certain familiar chartreuse medic sulking to the left of me as he comes into my field of vision. I shift futilely, restlessly, as my audios pick up the weary drudging plods that signal the medic's imminent approach to my berth. Finally! Someone to reconnect my systems and bug for information about the outcome of the latest battle in Mission City with Megatron. The most I remember about it… slag, straining my processor just worsens the ache from the Pit that isn't going away.

A gentle hand running over my cheek plates startles me out of my musings. Ratchet has reached my berth and I've never been so glad to see him. But instead of reconnecting my relays, shouting about the "glitching idiots who don't care two hoots about going to the well of All Sparks", giving the "I'm going to rebuild you into a toaster" lecture before throwing a wrench and sending you on your way, the medic merely drops his helm to rest on mine for a little moment. _Pit, the battle must have been horrible._

"Ratchet? What's wrong?" I try activating my vocalizer but it annoyingly stays silent. When I get all my relays reconnected I am so going to tell him not to do this voluntary silencing of patients ever, although I figure my injuries must have been really serious if I'm under a full-body lockdown. Ratchet looks like he's going to keel over anytime soon from exhaustion.

"I am so sorry, Jazz" I hear him say, vocalizer crackling with static. "It was never meant to be you. Stupid slagging Megatron, but at least he's gone now." _No kidding, no one likes to be injured like this, period. Megatron is dead? Oh Primus, I'm stuck here in the medbay while what probably is the greatest celebratory party is ongoing in the rec. room?_

"We haven't even told Prowl yet," Ratchet goes on, voice heavy. I blush a little at the mention of the black and white's name, and pray that he doesn't notice the pink flush on my cheek plates, but something is niggling at the back of my head. _Tell Prowl what?_ Something is not right.

Ratchet doesn't sound like he's in a terribly good mood too. In fact, he sounds downright dejected. "The whole team seems to be falling apart now. 'Bee refuses to come in here for his repairs and even Ironhide doesn't want me to fix his cannons here. Optimus, he –"

The medic's vocalizer shorts out, and I am growing more and more concerned. _Pit, did something happen to Prime?_ Something wet lands on my cheek and looking up, Ratchet is shedding little drops of energon onto my optics. Dear Primus, I have never seen the usually controlled senator-turned-Autobot CMO like this. It is getting more worrying – I hope we didn't lose anyone in this battle; our numbers are already too few and the other four mechs are like brothers to me…

But my fears are assuaged when I hear the medbay's doors hissing open and the heavy footsteps that usually accompanies the Prime draw closer. Sure enough, not too long later I see one blue and red servo come to rest on Ratchet's shoulder, and feel the other on my hip.

"Ratchet, you've done your best." I hear the deep voice say. I heave a mental sigh of relief on hearing Prime's distinctive voice – at least he was still ambulatory. _If not Prime, then who? _The niggling voice at the back of my head asks.

Primus, I feel really troubled now. _Why can't they just reconnect my motor relays so I can go around to check if everyone is alright? _Is this too much for a recovering mech to ask for?

"I'm afraid my best is not enough, Prime," I hear Ratchet reply wearily from his position beside my medberth. "It's never enough." Optimus doesn't answer.

My optics track the two mechs as they stand up, Optimus guiding Ratchet away. _Hey, wait a minute, what about meeee? You can't leave without reconnecting my relays, Ratchet._

I am relieved when I hear their footsteps stopping just before the medbay's doors. Maybe they haven't forgotten about me yet.

Then I hear Optimus' words to me, but they don't make sense. They _can't _make sense.

"We'll miss you, Jazz."

.

.

_Do they?_

_._

-fin-


	2. Chapter 2

[2007 movieverse] Realization dawns on Jazz.

Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately.

**Realizations**

2

**

* * *

**

"So, how do you wish to proceed, Prowl?" My spark flutters a little, even after all this while. _Prowl, here on Earth? _

"What can I say, Ratchet? That, no, you can't have him and he's mine and I don't slagging care that Bumblebee has no vocalizer at the moment and that we can't fix him?" The tarp covering me is pretty soundproof, but Prowl's voice floats through perfectly well even though it is spoken in a low tone. My spark clenches at the utter lack of hope and emotion in his voice even as he curses. _So sorry for causing you so much grief, Prowler. Sorry for being so slagging _blind.

Prowl finally sighs, and that sound is one of the most depressing things I've ever heard, "Go ahead." _Reconnecting my relays finally? Whew. _Parts must have been so scarce that they can't even fix me, can't even replace 'Bee's vocalizer.

_Don't worry Prowl, I'm going to be all fixed now._

The blue tarp is thrown back and I recalibrate my optics to compensate for the sudden influx of bright light. An unfamiliar 'bot shuffles into my field of vision, drawing nearer to my chassis.

"Ratchet," the new 'bot begins, rather nervously, "To be honest I've never taken a vocalizer out before this." _Now wait a kriffing minute, take a vocalizer out? Are they talking about _MY _vocalizer? What? But I _need _that. _I don't understand, why are they doing this?

"Ratchet," Prowl's voice holds an edge of warning, and I feel a slight flare of hope. I know Prowl will stick up for me.

"Understood," comes the reply, and the unfamiliar 'bot retreats, only to be replaced by Ratchet himself. "Jolt can watch from over there."

A shiver runs through me, and that little spark of hope extinguishes. Primus, they are really going to take it from me. _How am I going to sing for anyone, for me, for Prowl anymore?_ How am I going to _live?_

Ratchet's chartreuse servos draw closer, closer, reaching for my neck panel. _No, no, no. It's slagging mine!_

"Prowler, you have to do something!" I howl out in desperation, "Don't let them take it from me, please. Prowl, please!"

_Not my vocalizer, not my vocalizer._

_Not my_ –


End file.
